The Tree

I was sitting the other day with a student. She looked out the window and remarked that she never ever questions how the tree is, never judges the tree, believing it should be other than it is. We talked about how powerful and liberating it can be to see ourselves like this—natural, organic, alive and (we could say) perfect, just as we are, every thought, every feeling, every sensation, as natural as the tree, as perfect as the rain falling or the wind blowing, all of it wild and free. All of it the movement of reality, the dance of life. 

Of course like the tree, we are also so very dynamic—branches growing and dying, leaves changing color and falling, new leaves being born, sometimes quiet and still, sometimes windswept and chaotic. But as my student reminded me, we don’t question whether the tree should be moving or not, or whether its leaves should fall or not. May we see our own minds, our own emotions, our own bodies in this same way, as natural and effortless as the tree, in all its diverse, unpredictable and uncontrollable forms.

Nothing about us or the tree, ever out of place.